


a high wire of his own making

by crookedspoon



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M, Making Out, Pre-Canon, Secret Relationship, Sexual Tension, Shacking Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29726013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: In which Rufus is forced into a quarantine (for political, not medical reasons) and Sephiroth decides to quarantine with him (for recreational and also not medical reasons).
Relationships: Sephiroth/Rufus Shinra
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5
Collections: Proximity Flash





	a high wire of his own making

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Neurotoxia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neurotoxia/gifts).



Day 7 of his officially imposed quarantine has – unofficially and by far – been the best one yet. No contest. Not being allowed any contact with the outside world is still a drag, but much less so now that a visitor from the outside world has managed to sneak past security. Arguably the only visitor Rufus would have allowed even if he hadn't pushed his way inside as though he owned the place.

"You're looking pretty spruce for a contagiously ill person," he'd said by way of greeting.

"Wouldn't you want to look your best for possible intruders?" Rufus had replied and adjusted the cuffs of his charcoal dress shirt.

He definitely hadn't expected anyone to come looking for him – not even to extort money or deliver necessities in person, since his reported illness was supposedly contagious – but he liked to be dressed for work anyway. Keeps him in the right mindset.

Of course, a real illness would not have stopped Sephiroth either. His SOLDIER's constitution makes him immune across the board. No nasty bugs for him, ever. 

Still, the fact that anyone would manage to make it face to face with him at all when he was supposed to be hermetically shut away amused Rufus no end. His father had taken pains to isolate him and lock him away as though he were nuclear waste, suspecting he'd contaminate anyone who so much as breathes the same air as him. 

He's not wrong. Rufus _had_ managed to coordinate an assassination attempt while under strict supervision by agents supposedly loyal to Shinra during his previous, much looser house arrest. What his father likes to forget is that Rufus is Shinra, too, and that his agents' loyalty does not lie with the man at the top, but with the company as a whole. Rufus did not even have to blackmail anyone to help.

One thing that irks him about the whole operation is not that the assassination failed. Worse: it's that his father is actually _proud_ of him for giving the order in the first place. ("I've had my doubts about you in the past, boy, but you're beginning to show promise. Perhaps you _do_ have what it takes to lead this company one day.") He just doesn't appreciate being made to look a fool. Never mind that he doesn't need Rufus to show him up.

Either way, Rufus needed to be made an example of – and to be barred from communications at the same time. That meant no PHS, no laptop, and no electronics capable of sending or receiving information. A slap on the wrist, all things considered, though Rufus could have done with more access to his father's accounts. It's one thing to be locked up and quite another to have nothing interesting to read during all that time. It's going to take him a few days to get on top of Shinra operations once he can get his hands on the briefs again.

Well, he'll get to that when the time comes. For now, he'll gladly let his visitor take his mind off of such trivialities since the bags he smuggled in sadly contained no electronics either.

Deliberately deaf to Rufus's plight, Sephiroth is treating all this as a holiday away from his responsibilities. Being a general of Shinra's private army – and Heidegger's favourite war toy – Sephiroth rarely has a minute to himself even if he's on shore leave. So he decided to spend his off days where no one would think to look for him: in a secret Shinra property that Rufus just happened to have been squirreled off to. It's not how Rufus would have liked to reunite with Sephiroth, but given the circumstances he would have suggested the same if he'd had a means of contacting him.

Rufus stretches luxuriantly, feeling his sore muscles shift and relax. He's aching all over, but it's a pleasant kind of ache. Sephiroth doesn't hold back much anymore, something that Rufus appreciates.

"I didn't know you cooked," he observes, padding into the kitchen in nothing more than a morning robe and pyjama bottoms. 

With the sun shining brightly through the barred windows and reflecting off every high-gloss surface, Rufus feels vaguely underdressed for this time of day – even though he has nowhere else to be and Sephiroth has seen him in less. Quite recently, too. 

"When all you get to eat is bland nutrient paste day in and day out, you start to develop a taste for anything with a little more flavour."

Sephiroth is at the kitchen island, chopping up some of the fruits and vegetables he'd brought with him. The pair of Rufus's boxer briefs he's wearing is slightly too small on him and outlines his ass perfectly. For once, however, that's not what draws Rufus's attention. Rufus is a visual person – appearance is everything – and Sephiroth is never not a feast for the eyes. Even in an apron that makes him look... deceptively domestic. His hair, gathered in a loose, matronly braid as it is, only adds to that illusion.

"Do you not get your own rations?"

Rufus steals around him, running his fingers over Sephiroth's arm and wondering if he knows just how weak Rufus is for the sight of them. There's just something about his well-toned forearms that inevitably makes his brain stop working. Perhaps that is why he also gropes Sephiroth's ass. It's so firm you could bounce coins off of it. (Rufus has tried – and succeeded.)

"I didn't always," Sephiroth says and shoots him a dirty look. "Hard to remember now, but I used to be a grunt myself."

"You were already a SOLDIER when they shipped you out to Wutai."

"And in those days the only thing special about us was our name. Certainly not our treatment."

Sephiroth makes a face, though whether it's because of the memory or the piece of bell pepper Rufus snatches from the cutting board, he can't say.

"You're right," he says, crunching the piece between his teeth, "that _is_ hard to imagine, the way Heidegger fawns over you now. He'd deploy you for the smallest insurrection if he could get away with it."

"And I'm sure you're to thank for the fact that he doesn't get his wish all the time."

"My vote unfortunately doesn't outweigh any of the others, but you could call it a contributing factor."

Rufus swipes a slice of lime from the cutting board and leans against the edge of the kitchen island, letting his morning robe fall to either side of his chest. Sephiroth's eyes are drawn to the expanse of skin, drinking it in the way parched desert sand drinks in water.

"Reeve is a pacifist," Rufus starts enumerating. "He'll vote for a diplomatic solution every time, just as my father will vote to show off Shinra's might whenever he can. Scarlet is opposed to Heidegger as a matter of principle, and Hojo just wants to see what you will do. Did I forget anyone? Oh yes, Palmer thinks you're too expensive and that all the money we could save by not sending you in should go to his Space Program, but no one listens to Palmer anyway."

"Expensive?" Sephiroth scoffs and Rufus is entirely too charmed by the sheer derision in his voice. "A few SOLDIER operatives that solve an issue within hours is less of a drain on Shinra's coffers than supporting an army in a drawn-out war."

Rufus shrugs. "It's all about scale. You can't brute-force your way through every conflict, and anyway, aren't you glad matters get delegated away from your desk so that you can spend more time in my _bed?_ We wouldn't want you overworking yourself, now would we?"

Rufus puts the slice of lime to his lips and sourness bursts across his tongue as he bites into it. His facial muscles contract. It's the perfect contrast to his exceptionally good mood. He feels like there's nothing that could ruin it.

Already, he feels like... Like he's getting high on Sephiroth – a side effect of the mako in his body. It hasn't even been a day. Being around Sephiroth too much is dangerous for the addiction he's keeping in check.

"Are you sure about that?" Sephiroth asks as he moves toward Rufus, his eyes darkened with lust now. "Because it seemed to me like you were putting my endurance to the test earlier."

"Isn't that what you signed up for when you came here?" Rufus watches Sephiroth's hands bracket him as he leans against the kitchen island, towering over him and preventing his escape. "Or did you just want to cook for me?"

"I thought it only fair to provide some fuel so you manage to keep up with me at least a little."

"You think I can't?"

"Do you need me to prove it to you?"

Sephiroth's lips stretch into a slow grin and Rufus's stomach swoops. He'll never understand how Sephiroth manages to keep up his aura of danger while wearing the most non-threatening apron known to man, but fuck, he's here for it.

Sephiroth lifts him onto the edge of the kitchen island and slots their mouths together. Rufus suppresses a wince. Not because Sephiroth all but throatfucks him without preamble but because he had a vision of his immediate future: he's not going to be able to sit for the duration of Sephiroth's stay. Which is a concern for later. By that time, he might even be too high to care.

For now, all his attention is wrapped up in the very stiff cock he can feel rubbing against his own through the starched apron. Rufus grabs a handful of Sephiroth's hair at the back of neck and another handful of his ass, to keep Sephiroth right where he is. 

This vacation of his was perhaps the best idea Sephiroth ever had. If he could, Rufus would chain him to his bed and never let him go again. Screw Heidegger and his war games. Rufus doesn't like sharing. Sephiroth should be his alone.

Okay, so maybe there _was_ something that could still ruin his mood.

"Rufus," Sephiroth moans against his skin, almost desperate, as he presses hot kisses down his neck.

Rufus notices that his hand is clenched in Sephiroth's hair and he relaxes his fingers somewhat. The thick braid is coming undone, strands of silver already slipping over Sephiroth's shoulders and into his face.

Rufus lets his head fall back, lets Sephiroth slide his morning robe off of his own shoulders, lets him sink his teeth into the muscles there. He reminds himself that Sephiroth _is_ his alone for the duration of his stay. That there's no need to think beyond that for now, even though it's where his mind automatically goes – trying to break free.

He reminds himself that nothing is going to get between them unless he lets it.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Constantly Risking Absurdity (#15)" by Lawrence Ferlinghetti.


End file.
